


The Bellos-Damoras

by RiverWritesFanfic



Category: Falling Kingdoms Series - Morgan Rhodes
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-21
Updated: 2017-08-21
Packaged: 2018-12-18 09:23:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,408
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11871339
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RiverWritesFanfic/pseuds/RiverWritesFanfic
Summary: A collection of oneshots about Magnus, Cleo, and their children following the war with the Kindred. (Written Pre-Immortal Reign)





	1. A Son of My Own

** A Son of My Own **

            Magnus swept down the stairs, irritated and exhausted. How was it possible that of all the people in positions of power across Mytica, _none_ of them were rational? For nearly a year he and Cleo had been ruling, working to bring peace and union to the formerly three nations that were now one. Unfortunately, Magnus had never had much patience for council meetings and negotiating, and his self-control was tested daily by the representatives of three former nations that didn’t really seem to be comprehending the ideal of “unity.”

            Magnus wasn’t even really sure where he was headed as he moved for the palace doors. Out for a ride, he was thinking, to feel the wind on his face and perhaps let his thoughts die beneath the thudding of his horse’s hooves. However, he was interrupted.

            “Where are you going?”

            That voice. That sweet—if often demanding—voice. Magnus turned to see the person he loved more than all of Mytica combined.

            Just inside the foyer stood his wife Cleo, her golden hair tumbling down around her shoulders, her cerulean eyes bright despite the dark circles beneath them. She was leaning on the handrail of the stairs to relieve some of the strain put on her by her stomach, massively swollen, and Magnus’s child inside.

            Magnus remembered how he had felt when Cleo had first told him. It had been just over a month after their coronation, the night before they were due to return from their coronation tour. They had collapsed into bed together, bare and moaning, jubilant that the tour had gone well. When they were finished, Magnus had kissed Cleo’s forehead and whispered, “At last, just us. Tomorrow we will be home and hopefully things will settle down for a while, hm?”

            Cleo had looked sheepishly up at him and said, “I’m not so sure about that, actually.” With surprise, he had looked down at her as she sat up and admitted, “I have something I’ve been meaning to tell you.”

            As soon as the word “pregnant” slipped through her bow-shaped lips, Magnus had felt like his stomach had dropped through the floor. It was like every emotion flooded him at once: excitement, love, anticipation, fear.

            For a brief moment, it was fear that nearly overwhelmed him. A father. He was going to be a father. How was he supposed to be a father? His own father had been cruel and ambitious, unable to look past his own lust for power even as he proclaimed love for his children. Even in the events leading up to his death, Gaius had claimed to be trying to help Magnus while driving the light out of Magnus’s life. How was Magnus supposed to raise a child when he had never seen it done correctly? What if he ended up like his father, ruining his child’s life while laboring under the delusion that it was all for the best? How was he supposed to know where that border lie?

            He supposed his thoughts must have shown through on his face despite the mask he usually practiced because suddenly Cleo was pulling away from him, looking angry and hurt.

            “What’s wrong?” he had asked, feeling like he was scrambling to get his bearings.

            Tears were beginning to spill angrily down her cheeks. “You. You don’t look happy at all. I thought you’d be excited.” She was sitting on the edge of the bed now, and Magnus had suspected that she had been planning to storm away angrily but was stunted by the fact that she was completely naked.

            By the goddess, she was quick to anger. Then again, he had supposed, so was he. He reached over and grabbed her arms, pulling her to him.

            “I _am_ excited,” he assured her, running his fingers through her hair. “But, Cleo, I just don’t know….” And the fears had spilled out of him, just as they had overwhelmed his mind.

            Her anger had been forgotten and she had put her hand to his cheek, pressing her forehead to his. “Well, what of me?” she had asked, tracing his features. “My mother died with my birth. The closest I had to a mother was my nanny. Do you think I will make a poorer mother because of it?”

            “Of course not,” he had breathed, kissing her mouth. “You will be a wonderful mother.”

            She had smiled. “Then put aside your fears.” Winding their fingers together, she put their joined hands on her stomach. “I am nervous too, believe me. But we’ve made it through a war with the elemental gods. I think we can figure out how to raise a child.”

            Cleo was now due any day. She spent most of her time outside of official meetings with Lucia and Lyssa, asking about giving birth and raising a child. Lyssa was now just over a year old, beginning to walk, and imitating words she heard often. Her bronze-colored hair was beginning to grow in thick waves, and she had her mother’s sky-colored eyes.

            Lucia had seemed surprised at how nervous Magnus was. When he’d told her his fears, she had looked at him curiously and said, “But you’re great with Lyssa.”

            He had scoffed slightly. “I feel _great_ is an exaggeration.”

            Lucia had shaken her head. “I don’t. You hold her with love, you talk sweetly to her, you even play with her. You’ve never been nervous about her hating you, so why is this so different? She loves you, and so will your child.” Looking at Lyssa sleeping in her arms, Lucia had said, “Do you think I’m a perfect mother? Or raising my daughter in ideal circumstances?” When Magnus hadn’t answered, she had continued, “Because I know I’m not. But what matters is that I love her, and you and Cleo and Jonas love her. She is being taken care of, and I think she will grow up well for it. Besides,” she added, “Somehow, despite everything, you and I made it here in one piece and even found people who love us. If we can make it, I am certain your child will be fine.”  She had put her head on Magnus’s shoulder.

            Now Magnus looked at Cleo, her heavy belly, her curious eyes. “I didn’t have a distinct plan,” he said honestly. “Just out for a ride, to clear my head a little.” He crossed the room to her, took her hands, and kissed her forehead. “I will not go far, and I will be back before dinner.”

            Cleo sighed. “I wish I could join you,” she said mournfully. “I must bear all the stress of meetings, plus the strain of being pregnant, and all I get for it is being trapped in the palace.”

            Feeling a rushed mix of guilt and sympathy, Magnus gruffly muttered, “Or I could stay and keep you company. I’m sorry.”

            With a small smile, Cleo put her head on Magnus’s chest. Even standing on tiptoe to kiss him had been too strenuous for her these past few weeks. “No, I’m fine. Go for your ride. I will not have you sitting around the palace being miserable.” She made a face. “Well, any more than usual.”

            Rolling his eyes, Magnus bent all the way down to kiss her lips and bade her farewell. He made his way out to the stables, had the stable hand ready his favorite horse, and set out for a lap around the edge of the palace grounds. His worries about Mytica fell away with the steady pumping of his horse’s legs, but thoughts of his child remained. He did feel genuinely unhappy that Cleo was so uncomfortable, unable to sleep because her belly kept her from getting comfortable, gassy and nauseous by the very nature of being pregnant. But she was excited too, he knew. He would often find her crooning to her stomach as she went about her day, talking to the baby about how she didn’t want to go to meetings and how its Papa was grumpy and how much fun it would have playing with its cousin Lyssa. He loved her, and every time he looked at her pregnant body, he felt it anew.

            True to his word, Magnus returned in time for dinner. They ate in the dining hall, him and Cleo and Lucia. For the past week it had just been the three of them at dinner, but Magnus didn’t mind that. A nanny fed Lyssa while they ate. Jonas and Nic were in what was formerly Paelsia, working on organizing a new administration for the farms there. He was able to eat while talking to no one but the two people he loved most, and he didn’t see anything wrong with that.

            As they ate Magnus noticed Cleo wincing occasionally and rubbing her stomach, or pausing in the middle of a bite and clenching her teeth. When he asked if she was alright, she said, “Yes. The baby’s just very active today, that’s all.”

            Yet despite her assurance, Magnus felt a coldness creeping into his stomach. His heart began hammering in his chest. This was only a confirmation of what he already knew: the baby was due any day, and possibly before this time the next evening, he would be a father.

            He tried not to let his feelings show during the rest of their meal. He didn’t want Cleo to think he wasn’t every bit as excited for their child as she was, because he _was_ excited. He loved her, and he loved that he would forevermore be able to say that she was the mother of his child. However, that didn’t change the cloud of trepidation that settled over him when he imagined trying to raise his child, the memory of his father ever leering at him.

            When they were finished eating, the servants began clearing the dishes as the royals left the table. Magnus stood and moved over to Cleo, letting her use him to ease some of the burden of moving from sitting to standing. She looked up at him gratefully, straightening her back, then gave a sudden cry and doubled over again, nearly pulling Magnus down with her.

            “Cleo! What’s wrong?” Magnus asked, alarmed. But when she looked at him, he realized he knew the answer.

            “The baby—” she gasped, letting out another cry. “Magnus, my water, the baby—”

            He didn’t even have to call for aid. As soon as Cleo had cried out servants were rushing to her, taking her from Magnus’s arms, leading her away to a private chamber as the midwife was called.

            For a moment he stood frozen, watching Cleo stumble away, as he felt a cold rush of terror. Now. It was happening now. He had to figure out how to be a father _right now_. Lucia’s hand pulled him back to reality. “Aren’t you going to go with her?” she asked him.

            “Oh. Yes. Yes, I am,” he said, beginning to move after her. This time Lucia’s hand, still on his arm, stopped him.

            She looked at him with her stern blue eyes. “Magnus, it will be alright,” she said. “Do you love Lyssa?” she asked.

            “Yes,” he answered, confused.

            “Do you love Cleo?” Lucia continued.

            “More than anything else in all of Mytica.”

            Lucia smiled at him. “Then think of how much you will love this child she is about to bring into the world.” She stepped back, letting her hand fall. “Go.”

            He smiled at her, grateful, then hurried after Cleo.

            Neither of them had realized how long it might take. Cleo lay on the bed, periodically clenching her teeth, panting. “She is still very early in labor,” the midwife said. “It might be morning before the baby is finally delivered. And it might be difficult because her highness is small in frame.”

            “We might be here all night!” Cleo cried.

            The midwife looked sympathetic. “Possibly. It certainly looks like it will be a while yet.”

            “Fantastic,” Cleo moaned, letting her head flop back against the pillows cradling her. She glared at Magnus. “You better entertain me.”

            Magnus reared back, startled. “What do you want me to do Cleiona, stand on my chair and juggle? Our usual means of distraction don’t seem particularly appropriate right now.” Usually when they found themselves bored or stressed they made love, which was certainly not an option in this instance.

            Cleo had continued to glare fiercely at him, so Magnus had gone in search of things to do. They discussed plans for the next week’s council meeting, Lucia brought by Lyssa (who kept sympathetically saying _ow_ whenever Cleo had a contraction), and then, when Lyssa was taken off to bed, Lucia sat by Cleo’s bed and read to her. Magnus stayed with them, and every time he began to doze, Cleo told Lucia to smack him in the knees with her heaviest book because “if she had to be in too much pain to sleep, so did he.”

            It was well past midnight when her contractions began to increase in frequency and intensity, and the midwife returned, proclaiming that the baby was finally coming.

            Birth was even less pleasant than he had been warned, Magnus discovered. Cleo squeezed his hand until he thought the veins would burst, screamed, cried. He hated seeing her in so much pain. As she screamed he was reminded of when he thought this might be the death of her, having visions of her bleeding out on a bed like this, their baby crying out for a mother that would never hold it.

            He shoved the thoughts away. This was not a time to panic, it was a time to be there for Cleo. Cleo, who was currently decrying as loudly as possible that sharing flesh with him had been worth this. The midwife and the servants shot him glances that were a mix of sympathy and amusement, but he ignored them and ignored Cleo’s words. He figured that if she could endure the pain she was in, he could handle whatever she decided to shout about him.

            Then finally, finally, it was done. Cleo panted as the midwife helped her finish pushing. Her shouts had dissolved into whimpers of pain, and her vice grip on Magnus’s hand had relaxed. “A boy,” the midwife had exclaimed when the child was fully emerged. “It’s a boy.”

            _A boy_ , Magnus thought, letting it sink into his mind. He could hear their child crying as he was cleaned. _It’s a boy. It’s a son. It’s_ my _son._

            He kissed the back of Cleo’s hand and stroked her sweat-soaked hair from her face. “Where is he?” she gasped, still panting. “Where is he?”

            “Here, your highness,” the midwife said, coming over to them with a bundle in her arms. “He’s here.” She approached Cleo from the other side of the bed and settled the blankets into her arms.

            Magnus looked down. There, nestled in the blankets. A squishy little face, eyes still pinched shut against the light, a phenomenon they had never experienced. The finest wisps of hair atop his head, colorless. He would likely grow up blonde, like his mother, Magnus thought. “Corvin,” she crooned to him, using the name they had agreed upon. She sounded breathless and elated. “Our little prince. Hello.”

            She looked up at Magnus, who couldn’t bring himself to speak. Cleo extended her folded arms. “Here,” she said gently. “Take him.”

            Magnus did, tucking his arm under his son’s neck just as he had been taught when Lyssa was a newborn. He looked at Corvin, his son, and suddenly it was as if the world around him had melted.

            What he had said at dinner was suddenly astoundingly false. He had told Lucia that he had cared about Cleo more than anyone else in Mytica, but with just one glance down, it was no longer true. For every ounce of love that had blossomed for Cleo from his once-barren heart, Magnus now felt that love matched and doubled for the warm bundle he held in his arms. He knew would sit through a thousand council meetings, give a hundred speeches, shake hands with five hundred arse-kissing nobles if it meant that the Mytica he built was worthy of his son. He would give his son the world and he would love him like he had never been loved himself.

Looking at Corvin now, Magnus was no longer worried about being like his father. He had a son of his own, and he was going to pour every ounce of the paternal love he was never given into him.

            Magnus became aware of the tears dripping down his cheeks. He tilted his face back, worried that one of them would fall on Corvin and startle him. Blinking some of the tears away, Magnus took a shuddering breath and bent his head back down to lightly kiss his son’s forehead. The skin was soft and warm.

            Corvin stirred, opening his eyes. For a moment, Magnus tensed, afraid that his son would look at him and begin to cry. Instead, Corvin blinked, very slowly, as though still exploring how to do so. Then he opened his little pink mouth, let out a sharp sound, and settled back into his blankets and into sleep.

            He saw Cleo sitting on the bed, beaming up at him. Tears glistened in her eyes. Magnus sat unsteadily on the edge of the bed, his legs feeling weak. Together they looked down at their child, and with Cleo at his side and his son in his arms, Magnus finally understood why it had been worth suffering through every darkness in his life until now. He had never seen a brighter light.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Find this work and more on my Tumblr-->http://river-talks-books.tumblr.com/


	2. A Day in Town

** A Day in Town **

            “Must we go?”

            Cleo glared at Magnus as he helped her down the palace steps. She had one hand on his arm and the other on her belly, already showing at five months of pregnancy. “Magnus Damora—” She stopped and took a deep breath, as if trying to calm herself. He figured she didn’t want to yell at him in front of the children.

            Instead, she said, “You know what? You are the king. You can stay home, but _you_ must tell Corvin you are not taking him into town today.”

            Magnus deflated and grumbled under his breath. He would never let his son down like that, and Cleo knew it. Corvin had been looking forward to this for nearly two weeks, ever since Cleo had received the invitation to go to lunch with two of her friends from before the war.

            “This will be perfect,” she had said upon reading the letter. “They’ve invited Bri as well, so she can play with their daughters. Why not make a whole day of it? You can take Corvin to visit the market.”

            Magnus despised the market. He couldn’t understand why you would ever want to be anywhere that was so crowded, and he wasn’t one for material possessions. All he needed was a warm bed, a bottle of wine, and his lovely wife, and he was satisfied.

            Well…that had once been the case. Now his perfect world had something additional: his children playing together, completely safe and content. Perhaps in a different room than the one he and dream Cleo were sharing, one right next door so he could visit them and sketch their energetic forms whenever he wished.

            He looked at Corvin now, already waiting in the carriage with his little sister. Corvin was up on his knees on the carriage seat, looking out of the window. Briella, three years old, was watching her older brother with her thumb in her mouth. Both of them had Cleo’s stunning golden curls and Magnus’s dark eyes.

            Their colors…his sketches could never capture his family’s colors. The hundred-hued cerulean of Cleo’s eyes, the sun-colored sheaves of Corvin’s hair, the rose color of Briella’s round cheeks, still plump with baby fat. Perhaps while he was in the market he should pick up paints.

            No, probably shouldn’t. He’d have to ruin too many sketches to learn to color them properly. Maybe one day, when the children were older and could take over council meetings while he practiced. Until then, he would stick to charcoal sketches, hoping to capture every moment.

            The carriage shook as it began to move. Corvin almost lost his balance, nearly toppling onto the floor between the seats.

            “Corvin, sit down,” Magnus said, reaching across to pull at his son’s shirt.

            Corvin obeyed, flopping back onto the cushioned seat. “But now I can’t see!” he complained.

            “We’re just going to the City of Gold. You can see it from your bedroom window,” Magnus said. “You need to sit—it’s safer.”

            Corvin pouted, crossing his arms and sticking his bottom lip out as he sank back against his seat. Giggling, Briella imitated him.

            Magnus tried not to let it affect him. Damn it all, he’d once been good at this, at not letting anything get under his skin. It had once been easy to put up walls, a mask. Now all it took was pouty puppy-dog eyes, and he did whatever Corvin wanted. It wasn’t fair. He hadn’t asked for his son to be so adept at manipulation. He was certain Corvin got it from his mother.

            Nevertheless, Magnus sighed. “Fine, come here. You can sit on my lap.”

            It was like Corvin had never been upset. He sprang up and was across the seats in a second, perched on Magnus’s knee. He swung his feet happily as he looked out at the rushing green fields.

            This, however, made Briella jealous. “Me!” she proclaimed unhappily, also squirming off of the other carriage seat and crawling into Magnus’s lap.

            “Oof,” Magnus huffed. Cleo giggled beside him. “Why do I have to carry both of you?” He wanted to sound upset, but he didn’t feel it. There were worse discomforts than having your two children nestled in your lap.

            “Momma’s carrying the baby,” Corvin said.

            “That’s right,” Cleo told Magnus. She patted her belly. “I’m already sitting for two.”

            “Well now I’m sitting for three,” Magnus complained. “That hardly seems fair.”

            “Life’s not fair,” Cleo responded. “I’ve had to carry three children to term. You can handle having two sitting in your lap for a half hour.”

            Magnus rolled his eyes. Briella wiggled closer, reaching over to put her hands on Cleo’s enlarged stomach.

            “Baby,” she said happily, patting the bump with her little round hands.

            Cleo gasped dramatically, startling Magnus, and took her daughter’s hands. “Do you feel that, Bri? The baby says hi!” It must have been kicking.

            Briella gasped too, then giggled, “Hi baby! Hi princess!”

            _Hi princess_. That had been Magnus’s pet greeting for Briella ever since she was born, and it was one of the first things she learned to say. Hearing her use it gave him a warm feeling in his chest.

            “It’s not a princess,” Corvin argued. “It’s a brother.”

            “No, a sister!” Briella said angrily, her soft face squishing into a glare. Cleo smiled and Magnus rolled his eyes good-naturedly. This wasn’t the first time the kids had had this argument.

            “I don’t _want_ another sister,” Corvin said emphatically, as though this might convince the baby in Cleo’s stomach to come out as a boy.

            “Corvin, that’s enough,” Magnus said sternly. “You love the sister you have, don’t you?”

            Corvin pouted. “Sometimes.”

            “Corvin Damora.”

            But Corvin didn’t apologize. Instead he crossed his arms and glared out the window.

            “We’re going to be happy whether the baby is a prince or a princess,” Magnus said, putting his hand where the baby had kicked. “Just like we are happy about both of you.”

            Briella grabbed at her father’s fingers and he pulled her back into his lap. Cleo smiled and leaned her head against his shoulder. He considered joking about now having to carry her too, but her warmth against his arm was too pleasant.

            Magnus had once thought he would never have this, a happy ending. He still wasn’t certain he deserved one. Yet here he was, two children in his lap, his pregnant wife leaning contentedly against him, his sister safe in the north with her daughter. It was a happy ending, for however long the fates were willing to let him have it.

            Sometimes, he still feared their retribution. He feared having it all snatched away.

            Magnus pushed the thoughts aside. That sort of worry was useless. Instead, he focused on the fact that the combined pressure of Cleo and Briella was putting his left arm to sleep.

            When the carriage arrived at Joanna’s villa, Cleo scooped Briella up on one hip and slid unsteadily out of the carriage. There was a footman waiting, but Cleo had gotten out of the carriage without waiting for his help. She turned and waved to Magnus and Corvin. Magnus subtly tried to shake some feeling back into his numb arm, clenching his teeth as pain shot through it.

            “Bye!” Corvin called, waving. “Bye Momma! Bye Bri!” And then they were off again.

            Excited, Corvin began to bounce up and down, and Magnus winced as Corvin’s knees dug into his thighs.

            “Alright, Corvin, easy with the jumping,” Magnus said as Corvin came dangerously close to driving his knees right into Magnus’s groin. Magnus didn’t think Cleo would have much use for him if that part were lost.

            Corvin listened, freezing for a moment before sliding off of Magnus’s lap into the seat Cleo had previously occupied. He popped back up on his knees to look out the other window.

            “I thought I told you to sit down,” Magnus said.

            Corvin flopped down onto the seat. He laid on his back and looked up at his father upside-down.

            “What are we going to do in the market?” he asked.

            “That depends on what you would like to do.” Magnus’s ideal day in the market was a day not spent in the market, so he intended to just spend most of the day keeping Corvin away from trouble.

            “Can I get a sword?”

            Magnus frowned. “No, you cannot get a sword.”

            “Why not?” Corvin pouted. “You have one.”

            “I’m an adult,” Magnus said patiently. He didn’t actually have his sword with him today—instead, he was carrying a couple of concealed daggers, just in case the need should arise. But with tensions in Mytica still high, he didn’t feel having the king out in the marketplace with a visible sword would send a good message. He was doing everything in his power to not remind people of his father. “When you get older, once you have trained, you’ll get a sword too.”

            Corvin looked at Magnus for a moment, then pointed at his scar. “Did a sword do that?”

            Magnus tightened his jaw, running one hand over the scar on his cheek. “No, this is from a knife. But you see that weapons are dangerous. That’s why you have to wait until you’re older, alright?” Maybe one day, Magnus would tell him the truth. But for now, he let it remain a mystery to his son. His son who would never, ever face the same consequence for anything.

            “Alright.” Corvin went quiet. Magnus felt a weight in his chest. He didn’t like the look in his son’s eyes.

            Luckily, at that moment the carriage came to a halt, and Corvin’s eyes lit up again as the footman opened the door. The little prince was out of the carriage before Magnus could catch him, bounding out into the wide streets of the City of Gold’s market square.

            Emerging from the cart, Magnus grabbed Corvin’s shirt and pulled him back. “Corvin, you need to stay near me. I will not have you getting lost.”

            “Yes, Papa,” Corvin said. Then he pointed and said, “Can we go there?” And Magnus found himself being pulled along by Corvin’s hand in his, his son running for a cart laden with bright, woven bracelets.

            “Do you think Momma wants a bracelet?” Corvin asked.

            “Your mother has plenty of jewelry, Corvin,” Magnus said. “We’ll pick her out some flowers or something, alright?” Magnus had an allowance for Corvin to buy a few things while they were here, but he knew that if they took home everything Corvin wanted, they’d run the royal treasury dry.

            Corvin hummed in agreement, already distracted, happily sliding as many bracelets as he could over his wrists. When he couldn’t get any more to fit, he proudly held out his arms to his father, looking like a lizard that had tumbled through a paint store. Some of the ladies perusing the jewelry stand giggled at him.

            Magnus sighed internally, but even he had to admit it was cute. He’d rather see his son like this than with any weight on his mind. “Very nice, Corvin, but go ahead and put those back. Let these fine ladies get back to their shopping.”

            The ladies giggled again, now at him, batting their eyelashes and crossing their arms so their breasts were slightly more pronounced. Magnus resisted the urge to roll his eyes. He was a married man, happily so. Why did so many people wish to cause chaos?

            Luckily, Corvin was now bored of the bracelets and was darting back out into the street, leaving Magnus to follow swiftly behind. Next they stopped by a fruit cart, another jewelry cart, and a shop that sold mobiles of brightly colored glass. At that stall Corvin demanded Magnus lift him so he could get up close to glittering stones, which he touched happily.

            “It’s pretty,” he said.

            It was, Magnus supposed, if you found the clutter of rainbows to be pretty. Aside from the colors he saw in his family, he generally preferred the beauty born from clean lines and empty space. There were some parts of his Limerian upbringing that he knew would never leave him. But he let Corvin stare at the mobiles until his arms started to get tired.

            Setting Corvin down, Magnus said, “Come on, son, let’s move along.”

            Corvin seemed unhappy to leave that multicolored lair, but as soon as they reached the next stop, it was already forgotten. Magnus wondered if it was a beauty or a curse that children’s minds got distracted so easily.

Now they came to a stall that sold shawls and scarves. Magnus didn’t understand why they were sold in Auranos. In Limeros, scarves were woven from thick wool or lined with animal fur to keep the chill away. Here it was warm, and the scarves were thin fabric that wouldn’t keep away even the first chills of autumn. What was the point of having fabric wrapped around your neck if wasn’t going to keep you warm?

            Then again, Magnus understood little about fashion. Black was still his color of choice, even if it meant he was currently melting in the spring sunlight. In summer, he rarely went outdoors, or strategically planned a visit to Limeros (even though Mytica was now united, he could not think of his home by anything other than its name from his childhood) that lasted at least a month.

            Corvin, however, didn’t seem to have inherited his father’s taste for simplicity. He was happily touching the scarves, letting their sheer fabric run against his fingers. He brought one over to Magnus and said, “I want this.”

            Magnus frowned. “That’s for women, Corvin,” he said.

            Corvin frowned back. “It’s blue,” he argued, holding the scarf up for his father to see. It was true that as far as the scarves for sale went, this was one of the less flamboyant—black and blue and free of any tassels or golden hemming. But even so…

            “No, Corvin,” Magnus said. “Besides, its springtime. Perhaps you can pick your mother out a scarf when it begins to get colder.”

            But it seemed that this time Corvin would not be persuaded. “It’s not for Momma, it’s for me. I want it.”

            “Put it back,” Magnus said sternly, reaching for the scarf.

            Corvin ducked away and shouted, “No!”

            “Corvin Damora, give that to me this instant,” Magnus said, setting his jaw. He glared at Corvin, who clutched the scarf to his chest. People were beginning to stare.

            “You said I got to pick something!” Corvin protested. He stomped one foot and glared back at his father. “I want this!” He reminded Magnus so much of Cleo sometimes.

            Unfortunately, like now, the traits he embodied were not always Magnus’s favorites.

            Magnus looked around. Other shoppers were looking at them, whispering to each other. Wonderful. He couldn’t wait for word to get around that the king couldn’t control his own son.

            He looked back at Corvin, opening his mouth to deliver an ultimatum, but when he met Corvin’s eyes, the words withered. Corvin was still clutching the scarf, but behind the stubbornness in his eyes Magnus saw a slight kernel of fear.

            Magnus sighed. A little discipline was good, he knew, but really, what was the point here? Who would it hurt if Corvin bought the scarf? He had actually been remarkably good about not asking to buy everything he liked, even the mobile of stained glass. Magnus supposed that, if this was the treat Corvin wanted to buy today, there was no reason he shouldn’t get it.

            Relaxing his shoulders, Magnus said, “Fine. We’ll buy the scarf. But remember that it’s your gift for today, alright?”

            “Yes!” Corvin cheered. He wrapped his arms around his father’s legs and said, “Thank you!” The people who had been watching him now laughed and smiled at them, making Magnus blush. Shaking his head, Magnus paid the vendor for the scarf and followed Corvin, who was now skipping happily to the next stall with the scarf around his shoulders.

            There were worse things, he supposed, then spending the day in the market with his son. At least he didn’t have to attend a tea party.

~*~*~

            Cleo thought she might die of boredom.

            For a while she had enjoyed herself, sipping cold wine and laughing with the other two women about fashion and the weather and how the girls were growing up. Briella was upstairs with Marcie and Daniella, Joanna and Lillian’s daughters. It was nice to not have to worry about the children (or Magnus) for a bit, but now the other two women were talking about their husbands and the things they brought back from hunting, and Cleo could not have been less interested.

            Magnus’s father had enjoyed hunting, Cleo knew, but Magnus was not particularly fond of it. Though he would never say it aloud, Cleo knew Magnus didn’t like killing things. The war his father had started had driven out any sense of sport from the act.

            Cleo didn’t like hearing about it either. The idea of riding about in the woods and shooting things for fun was not her idea of a good time. Perhaps she should have suggested they join Magnus in town. She did love shopping.

            “What about your husband, Cleo?”

            “Hm?” Cleo blinked and tried to look like she had been listening.

            Lillian raised an eyebrow like she hadn’t bought the act. “Your husband? Ferdinand says Magnus never joins them for hunts. What does the king of Mytica do with his free time?”

            Ah, here it was. Now they had come around to wanting gossip, and Cleo wasn’t particularly interested in divulging her family’s day-to-day.

            “Free time isn’t something Magnus and I have much of,” Cleo admitted. “Most of our time is spent with paperwork and meetings, and we still travel every few months to check in around Mytica and see how the rebuilding efforts are going.”

            “Well at least he’s still making time for you, I see,” Joanna said suggestively, eyeing the swell of Cleo’s stomach.

            Cleo smiled. “Believe me, Magnus Damora is man of few desires. Luckily, I am one of them.”

            Best not to report that Magnus _had_ reached a point several months ago where he had been working so late into the evenings that he and Cleo had barely had time for each other. She had tried to be patient, but after nearly a month of little more than forehead kisses from Magnus, she had decided enough was enough and had walked into his study wearing nothing but her silk robe.

            That had led to a particularly erotic encounter on Magnus’s writing desk and, Cleo was pretty sure, had been the conception of child number three, who was now kicking against her bladder. She would need to get up and relieve herself soon, now that the afternoon’s tea was moving through her.

            “Cleo,” Lillian said, bringing Cleo’s focus back. Lillian grinned. “The look on your face—I can’t decide if I want to know what you were thinking just now.”

            Magnus’s study. The cool stone of his desk on her back, his hands along her thighs, his mouth against her—“I don’t think I should tell,” Cleo said, taking a sip of wine to try and hide her blush.

            “You’re lucky,” Joanna said. “That thinking about making love to your husband makes you blush like that. Quinton is terrible in bed.” Her voice dropped at the end, to make sure none of the servants overheard her.

            Lillian raised her eyebrows. “But you two had Marcie within a year.”

            Joanna nose curled with distaste. “Because after our wedding night I thought, _I need to give this man an heir as quickly as possible so I never have to share flesh with him again_. I suppose the fates took pity on me and gave me the child right away. I need a lover,” she said unhappily, and Cleo didn’t think she was joking. “What is your secret, Cleo? How did your arranged marriage turn out so well?”

            That made Cleo laugh. “Joanna, I cannot tell you the number of times I have asked myself that very question. The circumstances certainly weren’t favorable.”

            “Oh, I felt so bad for you,” Lillian said. “When King Gaius announced your marriage. You two looked so miserable at first. I couldn’t believe it when I heard you’d given a speech in Limeros, calling for Magnus to be king instead of his father!”

            Cleo remembered that speech. She had been attacked as soon as it ended, and when Magnus had come, saying he wanted to save her, that he loved her…that was when they had first made love. She would never forget how she felt that night, simultaneously full of love and hope and fear. “And here we are now,” Cleo crooned, rubbing her baby bump. “I don’t understand it either.”

            “Maybe you can flag down that Jonas Agallon the next time he comes through,” Lillian suggested, and Cleo nearly spat out the sip of wine she had just taken.

            Jonas travelled back and forth between the Mytica’s former nations, helping Cleo and Magnus manage the rebuilding and unification efforts. However, he spent most of his time up north, and usually only came to Auranos to deliver updates to her and Magnus. But she was always happy to see him.

            Joanna snorted. “Oh, I’d happily take a bite, but I hear he’s already got a bed to warm. A rather cold one, in fact, and one whose owner I do not wish to anger.”

            Cleo froze. “Watch your words, Joanna,” she said with a stiffness that would have made Magnus proud. “You’re talking about a member of Mytica’s royal family.”

            Shortly after Corvin had been born, once Mytica was beginning to feel more or less stable, Lucia had requested to move back to the north. She had wanted to restore the castle using her _elementia_ and raise Lyssa there, and she had said she was more than happy to oversee anything that Magnus and Cleo wanted her to. At first, Magnus hadn’t seemed thrilled by the idea of Lucia going away, but eventually he had agreed, saying he would rather have her up there in charge of things than their father’s old council members anyway.

            After that…Cleo wasn’t certain what had happened between Lucia and Jonas. They had been close, after the war, with all the things they had been through together. But nothing concrete had ever come of it, until several months ago when Jonas came into town and some of the travelling Limerian merchants started to whisper.

            Civil people called him Lucia Damora’s lover, vulgar people called him her whore. Cleo was actually fairly certain he and Lucia _were_ sleeping together while he was up in Limeros, and though it didn’t bother her on a personal level—if she and Magnus could somehow make each other happy, she didn’t see why Jonas and Lucia wouldn’t be able to—she didn’t like the nasty view of Lucia that seemed to accompany it. People said she was a whore herself, and hadn’t learned her lesson after having a bastard child the first time.

            Magnus hadn’t confronted the pair about it yet. Cleo was fairly certain that he was pretending not to hear the rumors, pretending that he could ignore it and it might not be happening. Cleo just hoped they got themselves sorted out before Lucia ended up pregnant again.

            Joanna flushed. “Apologies, your highness,” she muttered. But she didn’t really seem all that sorry. She just seemed like she didn’t want to be on the queen’s bad side.

            Cleo stood, stretching her back. “If you will excuse me for a moment, ladies. Someone has decided that the wall against my bladder makes for an excellent place to stretch.” She looked pointedly at her stomach. “I’ll return in just a moment.”

            As she relieved herself, Cleo realized what was making her so unhappy here. These women, who had once been some of her closest friends, considered the war little more than an unpleasantness. They didn’t like it, but little about their lives had truly changed. King Gaius had been too smart to let the rich fall to ruins.

            But Cleo had seen villages burn and friends die. She had felt the power of the Kindred under her very skin. She and Magnus had forged a bond that could not be broken, not after what it had already endured. And Joanna and Lillian…they just didn’t understand that.

            Straightening her dress, Cleo sighed. Sometimes it was nice to get a break from work, but now she found she was aching to get back to where things felt more…grounded. The princess who could party and gossip for days on end had been lost to the war, and Cleo didn’t think her old friends even realized it.

~*~*~

            It was nearly time for dinner, and Magnus could tell Corvin was getting tired. He was walking slowly now, slightly unsteady. He still had the scarf he had bought around his shoulders, but the ends were bunched in his fists like it was his baby blanket.

            After the scarf shop their afternoon had consisted of eating roasted nuts and flavored ice and watching street performers juggle and perform acrobatics. They had looked at the other carts and shops and Corvin had waved to all of the nobles who stopped to say hi.

            Now Magnus watched Corvin stumble as he bumped into a chair at one of the outdoor taverns. Chuckling, he reached down and scooped his son up.

            “Alright, your highness,” he said, shifting Corvin higher against his hip. “I think you’ve done enough walking for the day.”

            Corvin didn’t argue. He dropped his head against Magnus’s shoulder and fell asleep within moments. Magnus could hear the guards behind them chuckling, but he didn’t mind.

            He did, after a few more minutes of walking, begin to think that Corvin was getting a little big to be carried like this, but they were close to the carriage and he would rather his son get some rest than walk headfirst into a statue.

            When they reached the carriage, Magnus settled Corvin against the seat. His son didn’t wake, just stirred a bit, pulled the scarf more tightly around himself, and kept right on sleeping. Magnus smiled as he sat back. The carriage jerked as it pulled away from the market, but Corvin still didn’t wake. Looking out the window at the City of Gold sliding past, Magnus decided that perhaps he ought to spend more time with his family outside of the castle.

When they arrived at Joanna’s villa, he chuckled softly. It seemed Corvin wasn’t the only one who was tired out. Cleo was holding Briella in her arms, and the little princess was fast asleep, her baby cheeks smushed against her mother’s shoulder. Cleo waved again to Joanna and joined Magnus in the carriage.

            “Ah, so we finally figured out how to get them to settle down,” she whispered, lying Briella next to Corvin on the carriage seat.

            Magnus chuckled softly. “I suppose so. It just takes an entire day’s worth of activity.”

            “What’s with the scarf?” Cleo asked softly, looking at the fabric Corvin had wrapped around himself.

            Magnus shrugged. “That’s what he wanted from the market today. I tried to talk him out of it, and you should have seen the fit he threw. It would have made you proud.” The carriage began rolling, heading back home to the Auranian palace.

            “I feel like the implication there is that I throw temper tantrums, which I certainly do not do,” Cleo hissed. Magnus scoffed quietly. Cleo huffed and crossed her arms. “Perhaps I will take a nap,” she said. “So I don’t have to deal with you.”

            “You should. You need the rest.”

            As Cleo settled herself back against the carriage wall, Magnus looked at their children, sleeping peacefully, soft cheeks rosy from the lingering heat of the day. They were perfect. Their brother or sister would be perfect too. He thought about the brief anger he had felt towards Corvin earlier, when his son hadn’t obeyed him. The same sort of anger he felt when he found that Corvin was out in the castle after he’d been put to bed, or was poking around near the armory. But no matter what trouble Corvin got into, Magnus would never, didn’t think he _could_ ever—

            “What are you thinking?” He looked to see Cleo watching him, head against the wall of the carriage.

            “Nothing,” he said.

            She sat up and reached for his hand. “Don’t give me that. I know that heavy look, Magnus Damora. And you’re touching your scar. What’s on your mind?”

            Magnus realized that he had in fact been rubbing his scar with his other hand. He dropped it. “I’m just thinking that I could never do what my father did. I couldn’t do that to our son. I don’t understand how my father could love me like he claimed and yet attack me that way. And I don’t…I don’t understand how I forgave him for it. How I let him continue to raise me and be a role model for me.”

            Cleo scooted close to him and pressed herself to his chest. “Well, you didn’t know any better. Your father manipulated you for your entire life—how could you have known that his way wasn’t the only way? That’s how these things happen, Magnus.” She began rubbing the back of his hand. “Your father nearly made you cruel because he was cruel, just like he learned to be cruel from his cruel mother before him. You see that with nobles, with their sons, all the time. It is a vicious, miserable cycle.”

            Magnus sighed. “I just wished I had known earlier. Everything with my father…it’s like I’m just realizing how truly terrible it all was now. Lucia still can’t bring herself to hate him because he was always good to her. It’s all a mess.”

            “I know, Magnus. I wish I could help you more.”

            He smiled at that. “Cleiona Bellos, you have done more good in my life than just about every other person I have ever met combined. The fact that you are my wife, that you love me almost as much as I love you, is enough.”

            “Almost?”

            “Almost,” Magnus repeated. “For I don’t believe it’s possible for any other person to love someone as much as I love you. My love goes to very few things, so the amount that goes to you is likely more than you have left for me after everyone else that means so much to you.”

            Cleo frowned. “I don’t think love works like that. And I certainly love you as much as you love me.”

            “I don’t believe so,” Magnus said. “I’m not worth as much love as you are.”

            He meant the words as a joke, but once they were out of his mouth he knew they weren’t. Cleo stared at him for a moment, startled, then leaned in and kissed him.

            “Magnus Damora, I swear you are the most infuriating man I have ever had the strange fortune to fall in love with,” Cleo said. “You cannot honestly still believe that you are not worth my love.”

            Magnus looked at her, now perched on his lap as much as she could be with her baby bump between them. His throat felt dry and his eyes pricked. “We’ve had this argument a hundred times and we’ll have it a hundred more,” he managed. “Until I understand how or why you have fallen in love with me, of all people. Why I, of all people, became king of Mytica and father to such beautiful children.”

            Cleo smiled at him. “And I’ll have the argument a hundred more times, because I understand what it was like to be in that war, prey to your father. I know what it is to lose everything and have to rebuild it. I know what it is like to live outside that cycle, and how to make sure you stay free of it.” She pushed her fingers through his hair. “We’ve gotten this far,” she said. “I have faith in us.”

            Magnus smiled, wrapping his arms around her as he looked out at the setting sun. Another thing he could paint, if he ever wanted to bother working with colors instead of shadows.

            But perhaps that would be too much to deal with on top of everything else.

            For now, he leaned back and closed his eyes. He and the rest of his family slept until they made it home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Find this work and more on my Tumblr-->http://river-talks-books.tumblr.com/


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